Hope Still Lingers On
by Harry Potter and the TARDIS
Summary: Gamila Al Qurashi has never lead a normal life. At eleven years old, she was taken from her home in Yemen and made to be a child soldier. She soon catches the eye of Hydra, and they turn her into a weapon for themselves. Gamila is soon caught up in the fight between the Avengers and Ultron and she quickly realizes that life will never be normal for her. Full summary inside.
1. Chapter 1

**a/n: Hello all! So I decided to rewrite this story. I really liked the idea I had behind it, but I feel like I rushed it and I kinda botched Gamila's character development. This time, however, I think I've done more research about Yemeni/Islamic culture as well as more research about child soldiers. So I feel better prepared for this. Not saying I'm some sort of expert, but I know more than I did when I first started writing this.**

 **Full Summary: Gamila Al Quarashi was taken from her home by the Houthi when she was only eleven. For the next two years, she experiences the horrors of life as a female child soldier. No one can help but notice, however, that Gamila is not like the other children. Hydra quickly takes notice of this and they turn her into a weapon for themselves. Gamila is quickly caught up in the fight between Ultron and the Avengers. Ultron says the Avengers are evil, but if they're so evil, then why do they all seem to want to help her when no one else does? The Avengers, specifically Clint Barton, decide to take Gamila in. Gamila quickly learns that life with the Avengers is in no way normal. But that's ok, because she's not normal either. And neither is that annoying little Spider that talks too much for her taste.**

 **Main Characters: Gamila Al Qurashi/Wraith, Peter Parker/Spider-Man, Clint Barton/Hawkeye, Tony Stark/Iron Man, Natasha Romanoff/Black Widow, Steve Rogers/Captain America, Wanda Maximoff/Scarlet Witch, Pietro Maximoff/Quicksilver, Ultron, Michelle Jones/MJ, Ned Leeds, Heydar Tahan, Kareem Al Qurashi, Amira El Din**

 **Movies: Avengers:AoU, CA:CW, Spider-Man:Homecoming, Avengers:Infinity War and Endgame, Spider-Man: FFH, and onward, possibly**

 **Parings: Gamila Al Qurashi/Peter Parker (kind of a slow burn?)**

 **Warnings!: It'll be a mildly violent story. Blood and death, etc. Mentions of child abuse and sexual abuse. If you're triggered by these things, you shouldn't read this story.**

 **Face Claim for OC: Geraldine Viswanathin**

 **Just a few notes about the story before the story begins:**

 **~ In general, girls aren't used as actual soldiers. If they are taken from their homes, they are usually made to be wives to the men in the camp. I've tried to show that aspect, while also putting my own creative aspect on this.**

 **~ The Houthi is an actual group in Yemen around the time this story would've taken place. They do take children from their homes and use them as soldiers. There wasn't a whole lot of detail in the articles I read on them so I don't know a whole lot about every aspect of what they do, so I'm kinda making it up as I go along. If you have more info about this, I'd love to hear it! More info is always welcome!**

 **~ I'm the first to admit that Yemeni/Islamic culture is about as foreign to me as anything. If I've gotten something wrong, or offended anyone or anything like that, I apologize and please feel free to correct me! Constructive criticism is welcome!**

 **~ Also, I don't speak Arabic, obviously. I used Google translate for this. If you do speak Arabic, please feel free to correct me!**

 **Btw, I took the title of this story, "Hope Still Lingers On" from the song** _ **The World I Know**_ **by Collective Soul**

 **Please enjoy!**

 **Disclaimer: I don't own Marvel!**

* * *

 **Part One: Part of Me Is Gone**

" _ **Roaming through this darkness, I'm alive but I'm alone. Part of me is fighting this, but part of me is gone!"**_

 **~ When I'm Gone by Three Doors Down**

* * *

 **Chapter One**

The first eleven years of Gamila Al Qurashi's life were her favorite. Before her eleventh birthday, everything in her life was much simpler. She had her father, Amir Al Qurashi, who taught at the local boys school. He loved and cherished each of his children very much. Gamila also had a loving mother, Nadia Al Qurashi. Nadia stayed at home with Gamila and taught her everything she knew from cooking and cleaning to what she had been taught about math and science and languages as a girl.

Gamila only went to school for the first ten years of her life, which was her one complaint about her childhood. Once she had reached puberty, she was expected to stay home with her mother, as well as to start wearing a _hijab_. Her mother tried to get her to wear a _niqab_ , like she did, but Gamila was a free spirit. She only listened to what she wanted to hear, and seemed to ignore the rest.

In addition, she had a twin brother named Kareem who would tease her and play with her almost as much as he played with the boys in the village. The village they grew up in was small. It was called Al Mahwit, and there were only around 15,000 people. Most of the people there were poor farmers, simply trying to get through life without starving to death. It was a quiet life for the Al Qurashi family, and Gamila couldn't have loved it more.

Naturally, everything changed the day a group of Houthi members arrived.

Gamila would always remember that day. The absolute terror that had gripped her that night wasn't something easily forgotten.

Before that night, Gamila was often found outside, talking with her friend from next door, Amira. Amira was a year older than Gamila was, and Gamila admirer her very much. Amira had long since outgrown "childish" games, and Gamila followed suit. Instead, they would sit on the stone wall between their houses and talk about different things: their brothers, what they were doing the next day, whether or not Amira would end up marrying Kareem (Gamila liked to think that if Kareem did marry Amira, then she would finally have a sister). Amira would always blush and quickly change the subject, but not before scolding Gamila for being so bold. Gamila never liked being scolded by Amira, but she never stopped the older girl from doing so.

"Baba sayaftatih madrasatan jadidatan (Baba is going to open a new school)," Gamila told Amira conversationally. "Yaqul 'iinah sayaftatih madrasatan lilbanat aydana. (He says that he is going to open a school for girls, too.)"

Amira almost rolled her eyes at Gamila. "limadha turid aldhahab 'iilaa almudarsa? (Why would you want to go to school?)" she asked. Amira had always struggled with her learning and was grateful when her father pulled her out of school when she was ten.

She shrugged. "'uhibu alriyadiat (I like math)," she replied.

"'ant ghurayb jdaan ya jamila (You are so strange, Gamila)," Amira told her with a shake of her head.

"Gamila!" Gamila turned to see her father calling for her from the front door. He was smiling at her, the corners of his eyes crinkling slightly. "'iinah waqt aleasha'. (It's time for dinner.)"

"nem ya baba (Yes, Baba)," she called back. Gamila gave Amira a quick smile. "'arak ghadaan ya 'amiaratun. (See you tomorrow, Amira.)"

"laylatan saeidat ya jamila (Good night, Gamila)," Amira replied, smiling as well. The two friends hopped off their stone wall and went their separate ways. Gamila's grin widened as she started to sprint towards her father. He would always open his arms for her and catch her in his arms.

Before the eleven year old girl could reach her father's open arms or hear his joyful laugh, there was a loud blast and a splatter of blood that stained the door of her childhood home. Amir Al Qurashi fell forward, face planting in the dust, his brains staining the dirt on the ground.

Gamila remembered screaming for him. "Baba! Baba!" she cried. Her mother came rushing out, screaming as well. Kareem was not far behind her, crying desperately for his father. They all rushed to his body, shaking him as though he would wake up. Like it was just a nightmare or a joke and any minute, Amir would sit up and laugh at them. But it wasn't a nightmare, and it wasn't a joke. It was the Houthi.

The Houthi was an organization working on dismantling the current Yemeni government. At that point, Gamila knew very little about the politics of her country, so she did not know who the Houthi were.

As the Al Qurashi family mourned the loss of their father and husband, a man approached them from the dust. He was tall and wearing dark clothes. His skin was dark and he had a clean shaven face. "Astayqiz! (Get up!)" he shouted at them, pointing a gun at them. With cries of terror, they all stood up. "La tataharak, 'aw 'ana sawf darbat rasik 'ayda! (Do not move, or I will blow your head off too!)" he told them fiercely as several more men surrounded them, pointing guns at their heads.

The man who had spoken approached them. He looked each family member over, examining each one carefully. He then grabbed Kareem's arm and started to drag him away. "La! La! Mama! (No! No! Mama!)" he screamed, reaching out for his mother. Gamila and Nadia were screaming back, reaching out for him. Nadia even started to run for her son, but she didn't get very far. A man behind them quickly shot her in the head to prevent her from reaching her son. "Mama!" Kareem and Gamila screamed at the same time, their eyes widening with terror as their mother fell to the ground right next to their father.

Adrenaline and anger rushed through Gamila. She had always been a headstrong child. She would break rules and speak openly about things she wasn't supposed to. It ended up being something that always got her in trouble. But Gamila couldn't help herself. She sprinted towards her brother and seized his hand, unwilling to lose her last family member. She wasn't thinking clearly. Deep down, a part of her knew that she could be killed for this, but that small voice seemed insignificant compared to the tremendous pounding of blood in her head.

Somewhere, far away, Gamila could hear the sounds of guns being lifted and prepared to shoot when someone spoke up. Not Kareem, but the man taking Kareem away from her. "Antzr! (Wait!)" he commanded the other soldiers. Gamila looked up at him, her eyes filled with tears and anger, before quickly looking away. "Ma aismak ya habibti? (What is your name, sweetheart?)" he asked her, his tone slightly mocking.

"Gamila," she replied, waiting for the gunshot that would take her life as well. They were bound to shoot her, after what she had done.

The man chuckled. "hadha wahid huna , hi muqatila (This one here, she is a fighter)," he said to the other men, who laughed with him. He then looked up at her face, openly leering at her. "jamilata. aism aldhy yaeni jamilun. kam 'ant jamilat ya habibati. (Gamila. A name which means beautiful. How pretty you are, sweetheart.)"

The Arabic girl said nothing. She had never been spoken to like this before. The only thing she knew was that, by some miracle, she was not dead yet. So she let the man do what he wanted. "limadha la najlub jamilatan jamilatan maeana , ya rjal? 'aetaqid 'anana ymkn 'an najid bed almajal laha fi sufufina. (Why don't we bring pretty Gamila with us, men? I think we can find some room for her in our ranks.)" He chuckled darkly and the men followed suit, as though they were clones. "tahmiluha tuslu. sawf 'amsik bialfatat min albab almujawir wasankhrij. (Load them up. I'm going to grab the girl from next door and we will head out.)"

The men followed his orders, grabbing Kareem and Gamila and dragging them towards a large truck. "'atruk 'ukhti wahaday! (Leave my sister alone!)" Kareem shouted at them angrily, struggling against his captors.

"tubqi famak mughlaqaan, fataa! (Keep your mouth shut, boy!)" one man snarled at him, slapping him harshly across the face. "sawf yataealam kl minkuma eaqd alsntk! hal tafahum? (Both of you will learn to hold your tongues! Do you understand?)"

Kareem and Gamila both nodded right away. This seemed to calm the man a little before he tossed them harshly into the truck. Moments later, a sobbing Amira was tossed next to Gamila. The doors were shut and the only life that Gamila had ever known was left in the dust, along with the fresh blood of her parents.

* * *

 **Three Months Later**

Amira El Din was only twelve years old. Her older brothers had married wives who were at least fifteen years or older. She had always assumed that when she was married, she would be at least fifteen, just like her sisters-in-law. However, that dream flew out the window when she was taken from her home in Al Mahwit. Not even a week after she was separated from her family, Amira El Din was married to Heydar Tahan, a man nearly twenty years older than her.

Tahan was the man who had taken Gamila, Amira, and Kareem from their home in Al Mahwit. He had killed Amir and Nadia Al Qurashi and taken the three children for very specific reasons. Kareem was a strong young boy, not unlike the other child soldiers the Houthi used. Amira was a pretty girl that would make him a good wife.

Gamila Al Qurashi, however, was something different altogether.

At first, he had planned on making her another wife who would cook and clean for the men. Tahan quickly learned that that would be a waste of talent and time. Gamila was not like most girls. She was stronger than most boys her age, she was stubborn and disobedient, and she was a terrible cook. Gamila was not born to be like most Yemeni girls, she was born to be a fighter. She had a knack for it. She picked fights with the men that were twice her age (even though she always lost), she was smarter than most of the children they had taken, and she openly admitted that she would rather fight with her brother than stay and cook with the other girls.

Tahan looked down at her with faint admiration. This petite girl held more fight in her than many men. So he quickly took her out of the kitchens and onto the battlefield. He started teaching her hand to hand combat, as well as how to use knives. She had done well at this, even if she hadn't quite mastered it yet. Next, he brought out the big guns. Quite literally.

"'iilaa 'ayn nahn dhahibun? (Where are we going?)" Gamila asked Tahan as he guided her out of their camp in the desert towards an unknown terrain.

"Ah, habibati, hal turid miniya 'an 'ufsid almufaja'ata? (Ah, sweetheart, do you want me to ruin the surprise?)" he teased her. Tahan was always doing that. Gamila hated the way he spoke to her, as if she were just a stupid child. He never spoke like that to Kareem or Amira. Just her. "sa'uelamuk kayfiat 'iitlaq alnaar. (I'm going to teach you how to shoot.)"

Gamila's eyes widened. "hal hqa? (Really?)" she asked. If she was being honest, she was a little excited, despite everything that had happened. The first few weeks after being taken had been full of sadness: her parents deaths, Amira being forced to marry this man, Kareem being beaten for standing up for his sister, being beaten herself by Tahan, leaving behind Al Mahwit. It became apparent that her childhood years filled with joy were over, so Gamila quickly learned to find joy in the little things. This was one of those little things.

"Nem (Yes)," Tahan replied. "ladayk ruh alqital. sawf tajeal jndyana mmtazana balnsbt lana, habibati. (You have a fighting spirit. You will make an excellent soldier for us, sweetheart.)"

Gamila ignored his little nickname and focused on the idea of shooting. She would need to get this perfect if she wanted to avoid another beating. Tahan had a large gun strapped across his chest. It was probably nearly as tall as Gamila was, who only reached just an inch or two over four feet. Tahan noticed this as he examined the small eleven year old. She weighed maybe seventy-five pounds soaking wet. All around, she was just small. Gamila has dark black hair, matching eyes, skin the color of the dusty roads they traveled on, and a thin nose. She truly lived up to the meaning of her name, which was beautiful. More than once, a man of the Houthi would ask Tahan whether or not she was anyone's bride. Tahan always flatly denied the possibility, saying that he wanted to observe her more before she was married off. He had spent three months doing so, his eyes constantly on her back when she wasn't looking at him. Those three months taught him many things. In the end, he decided to attempt to train her to be a soldier like her brother.

If she did well during this training, he would not marry her off to anyone. Gamila would become a well trained soldier before he let that happen.

Tahan removed the gun from his shoulder. "khad hdha (Take this)," he instructed her, his voice no longer teasing, but commanding. Gamila eagerly took the gun. She was immediately taken aback by the weight of it. It was a lot heavier than she had expected. The Arabic girl nearly dropped it before she caught Tahan's disapproving eye. Gamila straightened up and picked the gun up. She gripped it, trying to put her hands where Tahan put his: her right pointer finger on the trigger, her left hand under the barrel, the butt of the gun on her right shoulder.

Tahan nodded, impressed by how quickly the girl picked things up. He walked behind her and adjusted a few things so that her posture was perfect and her grip on the gun meant that she wouldn't fail. "hsn. alan tahdif 'iilaa 'ayi makan waitilaq alnaar (Good. Now aim anywhere and shoot)," he instructed her.

With a nod, the girl focused on her surroundings. Gamila inhaled deeply, the smell of the hot, dusty earth filling her nose. She squinted and aimed the barrel of the gun at a mound of dirt about fifty feet in front of her. Her finger hovered over the trigger for a moment before she squeezed down on it. Multiple bullets fired towards the pile of dirt. Shell casings clattered on the ground. The dirt exploded and small clouds of dust filled the air. Gamila fell backwards. The kickback from such a big gun was enough to make a grown man sore after a few days of use, and the Arabic girl was so small that it sent her flying backwards.

The Arabic man noted with satisfaction that she clearly hit her target. However, she was so small that she had fallen into the dirt. He looked down at her, a mixture of anger and disappointment in his face. He reached down and pulled her to her feet by the hem of her shirt. "alhusul ealaa ma yasilu, fata (Get up, girl)," he snapped at her. "aistamara fi 'iitlaq alnnar hataa tusbih metadana ealaa alairtidadi. altaeud ealaa hadhih al'aslihati. 'iinahum al'ashkhas aldhyn satastakhdimuhum libaqiat hayatik. (Keep firing until you become used to the kickback. Get a feel for these weapons. They are the ones you will be using for the rest of your life.)"

Gamila nodded, taking Tahan's advice seriously. As much as she detested the man for killing her parents, she was also absolutely, positively terrified of him. The first night she had spent away from home, she had spent sobbing for her baba and mama. Tahan had no sympathy for her. Instead, he had beaten her until she learned to stop crying. "la yumkinuk albaka' baed alan , habibti (You cannot cry anymore, sweetheart)," he had told her. "aleawatif hi nuqtat duefa. yjb 'an takun qawiun min alan fsaedana. 'iidha bakiat marat 'ukhraa , sa'uhazimuk maratan 'ukhraa. yjb 'an tataealam alsaytarat ealaa nafsik. (Emotions are a weakness. You have to be strong from now on. If you cry again, I will beat you again. You must learn to control yourself.)" Gamila was smart enough to know that this meant that she couldn't get overly excited, angry, happy, stubborn, or sad anymore. She had to learn how to put up an emotionless mask, to appear calm though she felt both angry at, and scared of Tahan.

Tahan was well aware of Gamila's feelings towards him. He wasn't stupid. Of course the girl would hate him. He killed her parents and took her from her home. It was only natural. For now, her fear would be to his advantage. If she was scared, she wouldn't disobey him. Fear was a necessary tactic, for now. When she was older, she would hopefully turn into a powerful soldier who could look death in the eyes and feel no fear.

It would take some time, but Tahan was patient. Soon enough, Gamila would become the Houthi's greatest asset.

* * *

Gamila returned to their camp with Tahan several hours later. The sun was setting over their small base. There were several tents set up for everyone to sleep in. Most of the tents were filled with either a man and his wife or boy soldiers. Because some considered it improper for her to sleep in the same tent as any of the other boys, she had a tent all to herself, a special privilege given to only a few.

Gamila stopped by Tahan's tent to see Amira. Amira was nearing thirteen now, but she looked much older. Her eyes were constantly filled with sadness, her shoulders were hunched over, and her eyes were often red from crying. When she saw Gamila, she brightened just a little. "mrhbaan, 'amiratan (Hello, Amira)," Gamila said, trying to cheer her up. Of course, it didn't work. Gamila didn't expect it to. She only wished there was something she could do to help Amira.

Amira looked over both her shoulders to see if Tahan was anywhere nearby before she spoke. "yjb 'alla takun huna ya jamaylatan. haydar ln yakun saeidana. (You shouldn't be here, Gamila. Heydar will not be happy.)" The name Heydar sounded so unfamiliar to Gamila. She never even thought of Tahan having a first name. To her, he was always just Tahan. Tahan, the man who killed her parents. Tahan, the man who beat her until she stopped crying. Tahan, the man who married her friend who was much too young to be married in the first place. Tahan, the man she was more terrified of than anything else.

Gamila shrugged. "mataa yakun seydana? (When is he ever happy?)" she asked with a ghost of a smile. Amira forced a small smile onto her face before turning back to her cooking. Gamila knew it was pointless to keep trying. Her childhood friend was gone. Amira was just a shell of who she used to be. That's what happened to most of the children who were taken. They lost their childlike spirit and it was replaced by a somber sadness that seemed to settle over the whole camp. Gamila knew she wasn't who she used to be anymore. But she held on to what was left like a vice. Some things never change, and Gamila was determined that her fighting spirit would never disappear. One day, when she was bigger and better trained, she would take everything that Tahan was going to teach her and use it against him.

Someday, she was going to kill Tahan.

The Arabic girl walked over to the small tent where she was staying. It wasn't much, but she got it all to herself. Special privileges, since she was the only girl who was unmarried in the group. It was the smallest and dirtiest tent, and it was covered in holes, but Gamila learned to appreciate what she got. Some people didn't have any tents, so she was lucky to get any sort of coverage.

She crawled inside the small tent. Inside was a simple, dirty blanket for her to lay on and a smaller cloth to cover her while she slept. Gamila collapsed on the blanket and turned onto her back. Through a hole in the tent, she could see the night sky, which was full of stars. It was really the only beautiful thing the girl had in her life. So she stared up at the sky until exhaustion finally pulled her under.


	2. Chapter 2

**a/n: Thank you to those who followed/favorited this story! It means so much! And thanks to those who simply read and enjoyed.**

 **So, WARNING! This chapter is pretty dark and heavy. It deals with violence and abuse too. I put a warning in front of the part that might trigger people. I didn't go into detail with the rape, I just implied it and put Gamila's reaction to realizing what was going on. If you are triggered in any way by any of that, don't read that part!**

 **Other than that, please enjoy!**

 **bookwriter123456: Thank you for your review! And yeah, this story used to have like 13 chapters. But I decided to rewrite this story and make it better. I only took down the other chapters though, instead of deleting the whole story. So yeah, that's why there's a lot more reviews. Hope you enjoy this chapter!**

 **Disclaimer! I don't own Marvel!**

* * *

 **One Year Later**

"jamilat, aistiqz. (Gamila, get up.)"

Gamila slowly opened her tired eyes to see her brother, Kareem shaking her awake. He had changed quite a bit in the last year. He was taller than her now, by several inches. He was thin and malnourished, but he had also filled out a little as well from all the hard labor they did each day under the beating hot sun. His complexion had darkened, making his light brown eyes stick out a bit more. Those eyes that resembled a dusty road were filled with a mixture of seriousness and sadness. Gamila supposed hers were the same way. "'ant nayimun. tahan yabhath eanka. ealayk 'an tastayqiz alana. 'ukhbiruh 'anak kharajat min almueaskar li'akhdh shakhin 'aw shay' ma. (You overslept. Tahan is looking for you. You have to get up now. Tell him you stepped out of camp to take a piss or something.)"

Gamila immediately sat up and threw off the rag that she called a blanket. She ran a hand through her hair and pulled it back with the bit of cloth she had been given. Then, she quickly slipped into her boots and exited the tent. Kareem nodded at her quickness in satisfaction. His sister has started out being one of the strongest soldiers in camp. But soon enough, many of the boys had outgrown her, becoming much stronger than her. However, she remained to be the quickest and quietest soldier in the camp. She could sneak in and out of any place without detection most of the time. That's why if there was any job that required stealth, Gamila was sent to do it. She may not have been the strongest, but she didn't need to be. She was quick, quiet, and deadly with most weapons (particularly knives and guns).

The two siblings walked (or rather, jogged) towards the main camp. Tahan was pacing in front of his tent, occasionally glancing up to see if she had arrived. His _habibti_. She was going to be very important to him in the next few days and in the next few months. When he next looked up, she was approaching the tent with her brother. "'ayn kunt? (Where were you?)" he snapped angrily. "min almftrd 'an takun huna klu yawm baed shuruq alshams. (You're supposed to be here every day after sunrise.)" With that, he slapped her across the face so hard, Gamila saw stars. This wasn't unusual. Tahan hit her at least once a week, if not more. Kareem looked on helplessly. He wanted to stop Tahan from abusing his sister, but he was powerless. If he tried anything, he would be shot, and Gamila might be too.

"kharajat li'akhdh shakhin (I stepped out to take a piss)," Gamila replied, trying to keep a neutral tone. She wanted to reach up and rub her cheek, but she knew that any acknowledgement of the injury would only result in more punishment. "kunt fi tariqi eindama wajahat kariman. 'iinaa asif sidi. (I was on my way over when I ran into Kareem. I'm sorry, sir.)"

Tahan relaxed slightly, buying into the lie. "gharamatan. la tade hdha yahduth maratan 'ukhraa, habibati. (Fine. Don't let it happen again, sweetheart.)" He put a controlling hand on the space between her shoulder blades, making Gamila shiver. This was another thing that had become a common occurrence.

Gamila has grown up a lot in the past year. Her innocence had diminished until there was practically nothing left. Within the first six months of her kidnapping, she had learned a hard lesson: her long dark hair and full dark eyes had drawn in more than a few unwanted eyes. The older men in the camp made it quite obvious that they desired her. Not in the way her father had wanted her mother, which was what Gamila had imagined at first. No. Their desire was one of lust, not of love. Horrified, Gamila had done her best to avoid the advances of the men.

To her surprise, Tahan had supported this. Any man caught looking at her for too long was told off. Any man who touched her inappropriately got a lot worse. The men eventually backed off, leaving her be. Gamila had even been grateful to Tahan. But only for a bit. Because she quickly learned that his intentions were not so noble.

Not long after, she began to notice a change in Tahan. He still hit her and yelled and screamed at her, but then there were the other times. The times in between. In private moments when there was no one around to see them. He would smile at her differently. His eyes would linger on her a little longer than necessary. And when he would touch her arms or back, his hands would linger much longer than necessary. In fact, whenever he was training her or teaching her or talking to her, he seemed to be looking for some excuse to place his hands on her.

That had been the extent of it, but it was enough to make Gamila extremely uncomfortable. She tried to calm her goose flesh as she entered his tent, where her friend, Amira was lying on the ground.

Amira looked absolutely miserable. Her eyes were red and they had bags under them from lack of sleep. Her skin was paler than Gamila had ever seen it. She was very thin, except for her belly, which announced that she was only a few months away from giving birth. To Tahan's son (of course, there was no real way to know what it was, but Tahan wanted a son, so a son it had to be).

There were a couple other women in the tent. Farida and Soraya were the only other women in the camp, both of whom were young wives to some of the older men. Farida was eighteen and Soraya was fifteen. They had been here for many years, and had been in the same position as Amira was now. Tahan had asked for all the women in the camp to help his young wife as she prepared to give birth.

Gamila gave the other two girls a nod before she knelt beside Amira. She took her friend's hand and forced a smile on her face. "kayf tasheur ya amyr? hal kan ladayk 'ayi shay' lil'akl? (How are you feeling, Amira? Have you had anything to eat?)"

For a moment, the pregnant girl just stared at her, looking very confused. Then, her eyes seemed to focus and she looked at Gamila with a grin on her face. "jamyl! kayf halikm? kayf hal almudrs? (Gamila! How are you? How is school going?)"

The Arabic girl looked at her sick friend sadly. She had been like this for a month now. Amira was very sick and malnourished. Both Soraya and Farida feared she would die unless her situation changed, and soon. Gamila patted her hand gently. "hasn. 'ana 'ataealam alkthyr ean alyaman waljghrafya. 'atamanaa 'an taeud maei 'iilaa almudrasat. (Good. I'm learning a lot about Yemen and it's geography. I wish you would come back to school with me, though.)"

Amira shook her head weakly. She gave a slight grin. "wayajib 'an takhudh alriyadiaat maratan 'ukhraa? la, shukrana. 'ana last mithlak ya jamilat. (And have to take math again? No thank you. I'm not like you, Gamila.)"

Gamila forced a weak chuckle at her comment. "alrrahat alana. sawf 'uhdar lak bed altaeam walma'i. alhusul ealaa qawtik tisl. (Rest now. I'm going to get you some food and water. Get your strength up.)" Amira nodded, already half asleep as her eyes closed. Gamila stood up and approached the other two girls in the tent. Soraya was two years older than her and Farida was six years older and fully an adult, but they viewed Gamila as an equal. They were envious at times, that she wasn't forced to marry anyone or that their husband's eyes had been drawn to the pretty young girl, but they respected her as well, for her strength and determination. No one had ever stood up to Tahan before she came along. "hal sataqum badhaluk? (Is she going to make it?)" Gamila asked them. It was the same question she asked every time.

Farida shrugged, as she did every time. "la ymknna 'an nakun muta'akdina. hdha ghyr muhtamalin. (We can't be sure. It's not likely.)" Soraya nodded soberly by her side, tears filling her eyes. Amira had become close friends with these two women. Gamila wasn't the only one losing a friend.

"madha kanat alhajata? (What does she need?)" Gamila asked next.

"alghidha' walma' walbitaniaat walmanashif , warubama naweaan min aldawa' (Food, water, blankets, towels, maybe some kind of medicine)," Soraya said softly.

Gamila nodded focusing on every word. "'iidha kanat ladayha kl dhlk , fahal ymknha 'an tafeal dhilka? (If she had all that, she could make it?)"

Again, Farida shrugged. "yumkin. ymkn 'an nuhawil , lkn hdha alshita' kan qasyaan lilghayat ealayha waealaa altifli. la ymknna 'an nakun muta'akdina. (Maybe. We could try, but this winter was very hard on her and the baby. We can't be sure.)"

Gamila nodded again, this time thoughtfully. Amira was knocking on death's door. It wouldn't be long before Amira and the baby were dead, gone from this world forever. Gamila had experienced more death than she cared for in the past year. Her parents, other kids who were her friends, countrymen that she had been forced to kill. So far, nine people had died at her hands. At least, nine that she was certain of. There were probably more that she hadn't seen. Gamila's gaze hardened. She was determined that Amira and this child would not join the list of the dead.

The Arabic girl left the tent in determination. Tahan turned to face her immediately. "hasna? (Well?)" he demanded impatiently.

"'iinaha tahtaj 'iilaa alghidha' walma' walbataniat walmanashif wal'adwia (She needs food, water, blankets , towels, medicine)," Gamila explained, somewhat snappishly. Had anyone else spoken to him like that, Tahan might've hit them. But he had to admit, he admired this little girl's bravery, even if it was stupid. "hataa mae dhlk , fa'iin alfuras dayiylatan. walakun ela alaqli sayakun hunak fursatun. (Even with that, the chances are slim. But at least there would be a chance.)"

Tahan glared at her as if this was all her fault. Gamila glared back. This was his fault. She wasn't the one who decided to marry a thirteen year old girl and impregnate her all while they were fighting against their country. However, if she said that out loud, that would only result in punishment. She spoke out of turn occasionally, but she wasn't completely stupid. There were some times that were just wrong. This was one of those times.

For a while, they just glared at one another. Gamila thought that perhaps Tahan would take out his frustrations on her, but he didn't. He broke eye contact first and turned around to kick at an empty crate, sending it flying. Then, he spun back around, seething. "tamut , wasawf 'aqtiluk. tasmaeuni ya _habybti_? (She dies, and I will kill you. You hear me, _sweetheart_?)" he said, spitting out the last word.

"thuma ealayk 'an tadeani 'anqudhaha (Then you have to let me save her)," Gamila shot back. "'iinaha tahtaj 'iilaa altaeam walma' bialtaakidi. albitaniaat satakun tabeatan latifat. (She needs food and water, for sure. Blankets would be a nice edition.)"

"wahal satuqadam laha hasusak? (And are you going to give her your rations?)" Tahan said sarcastically.

Gamila shook her head. "la, sa'asraquhum. (No. I'll steal them.)" This caught Tahan off guard. They had stolen things before, of course, but it was always from political enemies or enemy soldiers. The nearest army was hundreds of miles away. And it's not as if they were very well off, supplies wise. "taqae 'aqrab madinatan ealaa bued 25 mylana faqtin. sa'adhhab wasariqat bed al'ashya' min shakhs ma. thuma sa'ueiduh 'iilaa huna mbashrtan. (The nearest town is only twenty-five miles away. I'll go and steal some things from someone. Then I'll bring it right back here.)"

Tahan considered this for a moment. It would work, that was for sure. Gamila was quick and quiet enough to pull off a robbery like that. And even if she was caught, she could easily eliminate them. There was only one problem. "wakayf tatawaqae 'an tahmil kl shay' hna? (And how do you expect to carry everything back here?)" he replied slowly.

Gamila blinked in surprise. She hadn't thought about that. But she thought up a solution with ease. "baed dhlk sawf akhudh karim maei (Then I'll take Kareem with me)," she answered smoothly.

"walmukhatarat athnyn min 'ant yuhrib maea? (And risk the two of you running off together?)" Tahan snorted. "la 'aetaqid dhlk, habibti. sa'adhhab maeak. (I think not, sweetheart. I'll go with you.)"

Gamila wanted to protest, but she knew there was no point. Tahan would overrule her. The idea of spending a full day with just a Tahan made her uneasy. But there was no way around it. No sense in fighting it. How bad could it be, really? It would probably be no different than any other day. So she nodded curtly. "gharama (Fine)," she mumbled under her breath. Then, she straightened. "yjb 'an natruk fi 'aqrab waqt mumkin. kulama aistaeadat 'amirat bed alquat mrtan akhra 'iilaa jusdiha , kan dhlk afdl. balnsbt laha waltiflu. (We should leave as soon as possible. The sooner Amira gets some strength back into her body, the better. For her and the baby.)"

Tahan didn't argue with this logic. It didn't even irritate him that Gamila was trying to give out orders. He gave a ghost of a smirk at the idea. His _habibti_ was growing a backbone. _Cute,_ he thought. But he would have to break that backbone before it grew out of control.

"jame ma tahtajuh. qabilny maratan 'ukhraa huna fi eshryn daqiqa. 'ant tafahum? (Gather what you need. Meet me back here in twenty minutes. You understand?)" Gamila nodded and sprinted back towards her tent. Tahan watched her retreating figure with the smirk still on his face.

 _Soon_ , he told himself. _Soon._

* * *

The twelve year old Arabic girl stared at the warmly lit house about 500 yards in front of her. She could see the small family inside, gathering around the father who was reading from the Quran. Gamila had memories of her father doing the same thing every evening. It felt like it was hundreds of years ago. In fact, it felt like something she had seen complete strangers do, not her. She had spent her whole life fighting and killing. Not sitting around a kind father, reading from the scriptures, while a loving mother gently stroked her hair.

Gamila shook her head. There was no point in dwelling on the past. No matter how much she missed her parents, they weren't coming back. It was better to just pretend like they had never existed.

The father closed the Quran and they all stood up. The three children kissed their parents goodnight before heading to their warm beds. Then, the father kissed the mother and they too went to bed, turning off all the house lights as they went.

"aintazar lifatrat 'atwal qlylaan, hataa taghfu (Wait a little longer, for them to fall asleep)," Tahan instructed her in a whisper. "bimjrd 'an takun nayimaan, sariqat kl ma tastatieu. 'iidha hawaluu 'iiqafak, faqtaluhum. la tataradad. fhm? (Once they are asleep, steal whatever you can. If they try to stop you, kill them. Do not hesitate. Understood?)"

The Arabic girl only gave a curt nod in response to his question. Tahan was satisfied by this answer, for the moment.

 _Soon,_ he reminded himself. _Soon._

They waited maybe thirty minutes before deciding that it was safe to get closer to the house. They kept to the shadows in the street, which were unlit. Gamila tiptoed around the house, listening closely at each window. The only sound coming from the windows was the faint breathing of the family inside. They were sound asleep. She tiptoed back to Tahan to inform him of this.

He nodded. "adhhab. sa'uraqib huna. (Go. I'll keep watch out here.)"

Gamila made her way to the front door and slowly opened it. It creaked a little, but not loudly enough to be heard by any sleeping person. She didn't bother to shut the door behind her. It would only be an obstacle for when she had to sneak back out.

Her eyes adjusted to the darkness quickly and she slipped into the kitchen. Her footsteps were eerily silent. Most people needed years of practice to master this skill. Gamila seemed to have a naturally light tread, and if she put in a little more effort, her feet made no sound. The pre-teen girl opened cabinets and found some containers of rice. She grabbed two full ones and placed them on the doorstep, for Tahan to pick up. She made her way back to the kitchen to find more things.

Onions, potatoes, beans, lentils, _lahuh,_ buttermilk, _hawaij_. All came out with the rice. It was more food than Gamila could remember seeing in a long time. Clearly this family was very rich.

After she had gathered the food, she crept into the living room to see if she could find any blankets or pillows. Something to keep Amira warm during the cold nights.

Her hands had just touched a knit afghan when a light flicked on. Gamila froze, cursing herself in her head. She had been so preoccupied with getting everything Amira needed that she had forgotten to listen for the family. Gamila turned to see the youngest child, a little boy. He couldn't be any more than six. He looked at her with wide, terrified eyes. "madha tafeal fi manzilina? (What are you doing in our house?)" he asked her in a shrill voice. It was certainly loud enough for the parents to hear.

"akhrs! (Shut up!)" Gamila hissed at the boy. "hal turid 'ana tamuat? (Do you want to die?)"

This only serves to make him more terrified. "Baba! Mama!" he cried loudly. "Baba! musaeadat! (Help!)"

Gamila knee what she had to do. She was supposed to kill the boy. Without hesitation. But she _did_ hesitate. Killing adults was one thing, but six year old boys was another. He hadn't done anything. Just gotten up to get a glass of water. It wasn't his fault. But Gamila had her orders. And if she wanted to save Amira and her baby, then the boy had to die.

The Arabic girl forced herself not to cry as she drew one of her many throwing knives. _Quieter than a gun,_ she thought to herself. _Less messy, too_. With no more hesitation, she tossed the knife into the boy's skull, right in the center of his forehead. His cries were silenced immediately and he fell to the ground, blood trickling out of the wound.

Gamila heard footsteps heading into the kitchen. The parents must've heard their son's cries and came to see what the matter was. Adrenaline kicked in, and Gamila was able to move again. She poked her head out of the door to see that Tahan was strangling someone who had heard the boy's voice. "nahn bihajat 'iilana alkhuruj min huna. sa'aetani bialwalidin. (We need to get out of here. I'll take care of the parents.)"

Tahan only grunted in reply, focusing on cutting off the man's air supply. He was scratching at a Tahan's arms, but it was no use. Tahan was stronger. He would be dead soon.

She rushed back inside and turned off the lights. Better to bring them down in the dark, so they couldn't fight back. As her eyes adjusted to the dark, she pulled her blade out of the little boy's skull, so she had both her knives. As she did so, she couldn't resist gently closing the eyes of the boy. Gamila regretted every death that she had ever instigated, but this one was perhaps the worst. Especially since it was triggering so many memories.

" _Baba!"_

" _'atruk 'ukhti wahaday! (Leave my sister alone!)"_

" _kam 'ant jamilat ya habibati. (How pretty you are, sweetheart.)"_

Gamila squeezes her eyes shut to block out the memories. Now was not the time for nightmares. Now was the time to act. When she opened her eyes, there seemed to be a fire in them.

The parents of the boy entered the kitchen. "farwq? hal 'ant bakhyr? (Farouk? Are you alright?)" Gamila could see them. They were slowly walking towards her and the body of Farouk. When the mother was close enough, Gamila stood up and jabbed her blade into the woman's side.

She gasped in pain, and Gamila covered her mouth to stop the noise. The man, however, had heard it. He spun around to see a small shadowy figure pull a knife out of his wife's side.

He was about to cry out, maybe to say his wife's name or to call for help, but no words left his mouth. Gamila had tossed her other knife into his head before he could call out. He fell forward, landing on his face, forcing the knife to go deeper into his brain.

Gamila stood up. She was breathing heavily, forcing herself not to cry and not be sick. Now was not the time, she reminded herself yet again. She had a job to do, and crying over these three lives was not going to help her. So, as she forced herself not to think about the fact that she had now killed at least twelve people, she pulled her other knife out of the father's head and cleaned the blood off on his shirt. Then, she tucked the blades back in her belt and she calmly walked through the door, closing it behind her.

* * *

"natawaqaf huna layla. (We stop here for the night.)"

Gamila glanced at Tahan in surprise. She had expected him to want to continue to match until they reached their base camp. True, they still had twenty miles to go, which would take about ten hours, considering all they had to lug back. But Gamila has assumed that he wanted to hurry. She decided not to argue with this, though. Taking a rest seemed wonderful.

"hasananaan (Ok)," she answered, carefully dropping the large back she had been lugging on her back. They made their camp in a clump of bushes that would conceal them from anyone that might come their way. Though, Gamila doubted anyone would be this far out in the desert in the middle of the night.

To her surprise, Tahan had packed two blankets for them to lie on. He must've been planning to stop from the beginning. That seemed very odd to the young Arabic girl, but she waved away any feelings of suspicion. So what if he had packed two rags that he called blankets? They had travelled thirty miles yesterday and robbed a home. A rest was probably necessary.

Gamila took the blanket he offered her and spread it out maybe a foot away from where Tahan was lying. "yjb ealaa wahid minaa mshahd? (Should one of us take watch?)" she asked knowingly.

Tahan nodded, watching her carefully. She was very clever, his _habibti_. Clever, stubborn, strong willed, and so very pretty (for a young girl). It would be a shame to see her lose what backbone she had grown. He would even miss her arguing or fighting against him. But he had a feeling he would enjoy breaking her even more.

 _Soon. Soon._

"sakhadh saeat al'uwlaa (I'll take first watch)," he told her. Gamila gave a curt nod in reply before lying back and closing her eyes, letting exhaustion take her.

 **(Trigger Warning! Skip if you are triggered by abuse!)**

It felt as though Gamila had just barely closed her eyes when she was awoken yet again. Tahan had shaken her shoulder, put he seemed to be pinning her down. "madha? hal ja' dawriun limutabaeat almshahd? (What? Is it my turn to keep watch?)" Gamila asked, unsure what was happening.

Tahan shook his head. "'abaq hadyana wafeal ma 'aquluh tmamana. 'iidha lm tafeal , sa'aqtaluk wa'akhik wa'amiratan. 'ant tafahum? (Keep quiet and do exactly as I say. If you don't, I will kill you and your brother and Amira. You understand?)"

Filled with fear and confusion, she nodded. What was going on? Why was he going to kill her and her brother and Amira? What was he going to do?

With no warning, Tahan had both of his hands pinning her down. He was smirking at her, eyes filled with maliciousness. "lm 'akun 'arghab fi alqiam bdhlk (I didn't want to do this)," he told her. "lkn lays ladaya khiaran. laqad talabat dhlk eindama qatalt 'awamiri. (But I have no choice. You asked for this when you fought against my orders.)"

Suddenly, Gamila understood what was happening. The lingering touches, the constant staring, the malicious look in his eyes now, his arms keeping her pinned down. Of course. Tahan hadn't been doing her a kindness by keeping her away from the other men. He had only done it so that he could have her for himself.

Tahan came closer and he kissed her neck. She could feel his hot breath on her neck, but she didn't fight. She just lie there, as tears filled her eyes. She had thought the beatings were bad. But this was so much worse. She would prefer it if he beat her until she was covered in bruises.

Instead, she looked up and found the brightest star in the sky. Gamila closed her eyes and pretended she were living on that star, while she waited for it all to be over.

 **(End of trigger warning!)**

* * *

Gamila lie in her tent, staring up at the sky. She couldn't sleep. Couldn't eat. Could hardly do anything. She didn't cry. The girl only lie flat on her back, staring at the sky.

It had been three days since she had returned from town with Tahan and the food for Amira. Three days since she had lived through a nightmare. One that was never ending. In some ways, it felt like she was still lying down in the middle of the desert, with Tahan pinning her down. She could still feel him inside her, like he had never left. The pain that had come as a result had yet to go away.

Gamila had to pretend like nothing had happened. When they came back from their "trip", it was obvious to just about anyone that Gamila was acting different. She was quieter now. She kept her head down, and hardly looked anyone in the eyes anymore, not even Tahan. She was no longer defiant or stubborn. She was… subdued. Obedient. Silent. Kareem has been the first to notice that something was wrong with his sister. When he had asked her what was wrong, she only shook her head and insisted that she was fine. It didn't really matter. Kareem didn't need to know what Tahan had done. There was nothing he could do. Gamila also feared that if she told anyone, Tahan would only rape her again. So she kept her mouth shut and her head down. She obeyed orders and she didn't argue with him.

Gamila rolled over and squeezed her eyes shut, trying to block out the bad memories. It seemed that there was no relief for her. Sleeping meant nightmares, but being awake meant that she was going to relive her memories of that night. She was going to go mad sooner or later. What she needed was a distraction.

The girl tried to think of something that could block out all the bad things. Something that she had loved before Tahan had ever existed in her life. There was school work, of course, but it wasn't like there were any textbooks around. Or books of any kind. Nothing for her to study. Playing with her friends had been eliminated a long time ago. There was no tv, no games. That left only one thing: music.

Her Baba used to sing to her all the time. He had a beautiful voice, so full of passion. If Gamila or Kareem ever woke up with a nightmare, he would sit by their bed and sing to them until they calmed down again.

Gamila figured that it couldn't hurt to try. Her voice wasn't as beautiful as her father's had been, but it wasn't terrible either. She thought back to the lullaby Baba used to sing all the time, and she started to sing softly to herself.

 _ﺮﻳﻣﺎ ﺮﻳﻣﺎ ﺍﻠﺣﻧﺩﻗﺔ_

 _ﺸﻌﺮﺍ ﺃﺸﻗﺮ ﻭ ﻤﻧﻗﻰ_

 _ﻭﺍﻟﻟﻲ ﻳﺣﺑﻚ ﺒﻳﺒﻮﺴﻚ_

 _ﻭﺍﻟﻟﻲ ﺒﻐﺿﻚ ﺸﻮ ﺒﻳﺗﻟﻗﻰ_

 _ﻴﻟﻼ ﺘﻧﺎﻢ…_ _.._ _ﻴﻟﻼ ﺘﻧﺎﻢ_

 _ﻻﺪﺑﺣﻼ ﻃﻳﺮ ﺍﻟﺣﻣﺎﻢ_

 _ﺮﻮﺡ ﻴﺎ ﺤﻣﺎﻢ ﻻ ﺘﺻﺩﻖ_

 _ﻨﺿﺣﻚ ﻋﺎ ﺮﻳﻤﺎ ﺘﺘﻧﺎﻢ_

 _(Rima the smart_

 _Her hair is fair and tidy_

 _Whoever loves you will kiss you_

 _But whoever hates you... will have problems_

 _Sleep ...Sleep_

 _To offer her (him) a pigeon_

 _Go, O pigeon, don't stop_

 _I am fibbing Rima to sleep.)"_

The young girl felt tears prick at her eyes and she started to cry quietly as she repeated the lullaby to herself.

Had Tahan been able to see her right then, he would have been smiling.

He had done it.

He had broken her.

* * *

 **a/n: Here's the link to the lullaby Gamila sings. It's technically a Lebanese lullaby and not a Yemeni one, but I couldn't find any Yemeni lullabies.**

 **/watch?v=xb2h-SXAvUE**

 **I tried to find the Arabic version using the English alphabet so those of you who don't speak Arabic could hear it in your head, but I couldn't find it anywhere. So I just went with the Arabic alphabet.**

 **It's actually a really beautiful song. I'm kinda in love with it.**

 **Anywho, please review! This chapter was super dark, but it won't always be this heavy. I'm thinking I'll do maybe four or five chapters of Gamila's life before the Avengers step in. I want to give her some background, but I also don't want to stretch it out so much that it becomes boring.**

 **Until next time!**


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